


utility

by xxELF21xx



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Introspection, Self-Hatred, apparently i can only write wars content now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:55:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27506455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxELF21xx/pseuds/xxELF21xx
Summary: He is, in all aspects, utilitarian.Hehasto be.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	utility

**Author's Note:**

> this idea lives in my head permanently and it hurts me

He is, in all aspects, utilitarian. If something is presented to him, he will find a use for it. If someone is willing to put their life on the line, he'll make sure he makes full use of it.

He  _ is  _ utilitarian. He  _ has  _ to be. 

He's been this way for years -- way before the Hyrulean Army, the uniform, the tunic, the scarf, the sword. 

Back when he lived in the city's outskirts, he's used everyone passing through to get news from the city and everywhere else. He used his manners -- proper, bright and polite -- to charm people's lips loose and gain too-detailed stories of lives outside his two-storey suburban cottage. He used gifts -- a spare wheel of cheese, an extra bottle of milk, freshly pressed flowers, a handmade charm beautifully wrapped in silk -- to get his way, to have people  _ remember  _ him as someone generous and kind. 

It was a fun game, back before the world fell into a bloody pool sitting on his shoulders. Thrilling even, to sneak glances and flash a cheeky grin.

Have you ever hated the person in the mirror?

He charmed his way into the Army, bypassing the routine assessments with pretty praises and statewide propaganda, breezing past training as if it was as easy as breathing; as easy as bartering with the baker’s boy and pressing flowers into his newest journal. 

He gracefully accepted the scarf and tunic, the ever-polite smile plastered on his face purely from instinct, mind whirring with complications over the mark emblazoned into his skin; his soul. Didn’t utter a single curse, no  _ why me,  _ no anger; just a simple  _ thank you,  _ his every atom humble and sincere like his mother had preached. 

Never agitated, never faltering, not even a millimetre out of step -- the steadfast Captain. The Chosen Hero. 

Have you ever hated the monster that looks back at you?

Morale was low, rations even lower, and peace almost nonexistent. 

But even then, he’d continued with his old ways. Continued smiling, praising, complimenting, using anything in his arsenal to get through the countless battles and endless days. 

It wasn’t enough. 

Soon, he realised, he’d have to give more than that. 

Respect --  _ fear  _ \-- was easy to get; affection and love existed solely for those important enough. 

It was frighteningly easy to use his words, his attention and affection, to gather more resources for the Army. Every word he uttered, every action he executed, was sickeningly smooth. Practised to perfection.

Soon after, they were running out of men.

It was scary, how he soaked up state propaganda and convinced innocents to join the “cause”. His heart never betrayed him, his face perfectly sculpted with an inviting smile, arms open. 

His ability to read people -- pinpoint their strengths, capitalize on their weakness, their need for validation and existence -- became his second greatest asset.

Midna first, Ghirahim next, Volga soon after. Young Link, then Marin, Toon Link, Skull Kid.

Ganon.

Have you ever stared at yourself in the mirror and wished you weren’t you?

He stays quiet after the war. 

They hail him as the Hero, righteous and worthy of glory. The sacrifices he made were beneficial, the risks taken were seen as a must. 

The tunic and scarf are shackles, a constant reminder of who he is; what he has done. The new title they bestow onto him -- Captain of the Royal Guard, Her Highness Princess Zelda Hyrule’s Loyal Guard -- is a painful thorn on his side. 

He wants to go home, back to the cottage on the outskirts of town, where nothing really mattered.

He continues staying quiet even as he meets the rest -- all of them painfully familiar, a phantom within arm’s length. All of them but Wild, whose presence and mannerisms are familiar, like mist looking at the fog. 

The Chosen Hero is nothing like him. He feels hollow, basking in the man’s genuine sincerity and earnest hope that the future will be better. Sky is by no means a saint living amongst mortals, but he is a far better man than him. 

He doesn’t talk of the war, of the atrocities he did and the lies he committed to memory. 

He doesn’t think the others would be able to withstand how monstrous he actually is. 

He is, in all aspects, utilitarian. Everything has a use,  _ especially  _ himself.

Have you ever feared yourself so much you try to become someone else, someone new?


End file.
